Sleeping To Dream
by Dirgni19
Summary: Martha dreams, and it's all the Doctor's fault. A sequel to From Out of the Rain. This story follows right after The Message.


_Martha sighed softly into the crook of John Smith's neck, causing him to close his eyes and gasp at the feeling of her hot breath on his skin. His lips blindly sought hers as he lies__heavily on top of her, unable to restrain his growing need for her. Their hands clasped above their heads, anchoring each one together by their grip. John released her left hand and his fingers travel swiftly down to Martha's waist to unlace her apron and to unbuckle his belt, while she wrapped her freed hand around his neck to pull him closer. His breath hitched as he raised her__skirt upwards, brushing her skin lightly with the tip of his fingers. A cold breeze ruffles John's matted hair as he _began_ to slide into her, moaning__her name in her ear… _

Martha sat bolt upright, sweating and shivering. She looked quickly around the room trying to find her bearings. Once her heart stopped racing and her breathing returned to normal, she turned to her right and saw the Doctor asleep, his hands folded stiffly across his chest, though she found it quite odd that despite the cold**,** his forehead was slick with sweat.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed to herself. This was her third dream in the past week that consisted of John Smith and herself in a very erotic situation and she couldn't understand why they were suddenly plaguing her subconscious so much more strongly than before. The first two dreams had been quite tame compared to this: they consisted of long kisses and heavy petting**,**but this dream was enough to leave her breathless in waking, staring at the sleeping Time Lord beside her. She knew it wasn't a great idea to be so close to the Doctor in terms of their sleeping arrangements, but she couldn't bear to be alone in the bed while he slept uncomfortably on their living room sofa. What Martha didn't anticipate was what the particular arrangement would do to her flagging restraint.

Unable to go back to sleep, Martha sighed and stood up carefully so as not to disturb her bed mate. She whispered to herself gratefully in the dark that at this early time the building's heater would still be off - a cold shower was what she needed anyway.

* * *

_It was pitch black and the chilly air nipped at their exposed flesh, but neither cared, wrapped so warmly in each other's arms. John lay on Martha's right side, and they both gazed out into the sky covered with millions of twinkling lights. _

_"What I would give for this night to never end," John whispered, his fingers caressing his lover's hair. Martha sighed contentedly and snuggled deeper into his embrace. _

_"I would give those mornings spent scrubbing floors," Martha said good-naturedly, but her laugh was still tinged with sadness. John furrowed his brow and hugged Martha closer._

_"I would give everything to be with you, Miss Jones. Everything and anything I would give up, just to be here with you." Martha said nothing in reply, but her hidden smile could__have illuminated a thousand galaxies._

Martha opened her eyes slowly, a lopsided grin on her face. She was lying on her side, facing the Doctor who mirrored her position. His eyes were closed and his right arm was draped chastely on her left hip. Though he was still asleep, Martha couldn't help but notice that his lips were turned up into a smile, his features soft and peaceful. Martha gazed at his sleeping form a few minutes longer before she drifted back into the land of dreams.

* * *

_"I must go to them before anyone else dies."_

_"You can't." Joan Redfern said as she made her way across the room to sit beside John. She turned to Martha, hoping she could provide a less dangerous solution to their predicament. _

_"Martha, there must be something we can do."_

_Martha shook her head. "Not without the watch." _

_She was torn between frustration and panic. How could that fob watch disappear from John Smith's room? Without it, the Doctor would never return and she'd be stuck in Farringham to live out her days as a maid. The prospect of being without the Doctor scared her more than the latter. _

_John Smith sprung up from the bench, anger writhed on his face as he stood pointing an accusatory finger at Martha._

_"You're this Doctor's companion! Can't you help? What exactly do you do for him? Why does he need you?" John cried, and all Martha could do was look on helplessly, tears slowly forming behind her eyes. _

_"Because he's lonely," Martha replied. John's features contorted with silent fury. _

_"And that's what you want me to become." _

That was no dream. It happened, and it was so real that she could still feel the sting of John Smith's words as if he just said them yesterday.

Martha had just finished work and was walking back to the flat she shared with the Doctor, analyzing the complexities of her dreaming mind. She wondered why this kept happening to her - she was never the type to dream so vividly except when she was in the TARDIS. Even then, when she dreamed or had a nightmare she'd be soothed immediately by the ship's humming and she'd forget them the next day. In 1969 London Martha did not have the luxury of forgetting.

Her thoughts regarding the ship she had grown to love and miss had caused her to think of the Doctor who had acted unusually distant towards her when he had left their flat that morning. When she sought him out to say goodbye, he had already put on his coat and said his farewells first, barely turning around to look at her as he made his way out.

Martha suspected that their lengthy stay in 1969 was beginning to take its toll on him - it had been two weeks since they trespassed on private property to leave the message on the wall for Sally Sparrow, and now that he had finished building the temporal incursion detector that would announce the arrival of Billy Shipton, he had run out of things to tinker with. Still, it was strange (even for the Doctor) to just up and leave with hardly an explanation for his hasty exit. Martha sighed as she reached their front door and begun to unlock it with her spare key.

She entered the room loudly, making sure to attract attention to herself in case the Doctor still did not want to talk to her thus giving him ample time to avoid her. She was surprised when she saw the Doctor sitting agitatedly in the dimly-lit living room with his shoes tapping absent-mindedly on the floor, obviously waiting for her to return from work.

"Hey you, we can afford to pay our electricity bill, if that's the reason why you're sitting here in the dark," Martha said in greeting, hoping to make the Doctor smile with her joke. She was rewarded with a half-hearted grin, and he stood up and flicked a switch, casting the room with a bright light. He sat down again and brought his hands together on his knees before replying.

"We need to talk, Martha." Disconcerted yet intrigued, Martha placed her bag and keys on the kitchen table and crossed the room slowly to where the Doctor sat. She hadn't bothered to take off her coat (the heater was acting up again) as she lowered herself on the sofa and turned her attention to the Doctor. He uncrossed his fingers and brushed a strand of hair back from her face, surprising her with his gentleness. Martha placed a hand on his forehead, concerned.

"Are you okay, Doctor? You've been acting strange the whole day. Do you feel sick? Should I make you some tea?" The Doctor smiled genuinely for the first time that day**,** and shook his head slightly before taking Martha's hand and enclosed it within his own.

"I'm fine, don't worry. I should be the one asking the same about you."

"Me? But I'm perfectly fine. What do you mean, Doctor?" She felt even more confused. The Doctor sighed and shifted closer to her, letting go of her hand only to put his left arm around her shoulder. Once they have settled comfortably on the sofa, the Doctor resumed.

"You've been having some - interesting dreams lately, am I right?" the Doctor asked, the tip of his ears began to turn a light shade of pink.

Horrified, Martha blushed, her mouth agape and her eyes wide open with embarrassment.

"Wha - I - You mean you _knew_?" Martha spluttered. The Doctor leaned his head to the side and looked at his Companion, worry and guilt taking over his features.

"No**,** no, don't be ashamed of them, Martha. I should be the one to be embarrassed; it's really all my fault."

Stunned, Martha could only stare back. Realizing that she was too shocked and confused to ask what he meant by his confession, the Doctor shuffled uneasily and pulled on his ear before continuing.

"I'm telepathic, right? I can transfer and receive thoughts to and from other people who are closely linked to me, physically or otherwise. Since we've been sleeping together in the same bed," he gulped, "the close proximity between us has caused my subconscious to open up and telepathically transmit some of my thoughts, specifically John Smith's, to you. Whenever I'm holding you or even when I'm simply in contact with you in any way while we're both asleep, his residual thoughts seep through the cracks**,** and that's what you've been dreaming about."

Still baffled by this revelation, Martha had regained her voice and began to question him, her interest in the scientific aspect of their situation overwhelming her discomfort at being caught thinking of the Doctor in a way that could leave Mrs. Putnam, their prude of a landlady, completely scandalized.

"Let me get this straight - you were dreaming of John Smith, and your mind transferred those dreams to me through a telepathic link?"

"No, the part of me that _was _John Smith still resides in my subconscious, and since the mind's the most vulnerable when you're asleep, it was much easier for those thoughts to travel to you, and they manifested in your dreams." She nodded in comprehension, yet her brow was still wrinkled in concentration.

"John Smith thought of me in that way? But he never even saw me," Martha said, staring at the ceiling as if asking for an explanation. The Doctor gazed at his human Companion and softly replied.

"Oh, he did see you, Martha. You're beautiful and you're brilliant, I'd be crazy not to see you."

"You mean John Smith," Martha stated, bemused. The Doctor smiled indulgently as she returned her gaze to him.

"Remember, he's a part of me, too." She blushed at the Doctor's veiled compliment. She then twisted her body so that she could sit facing him with her legs bent inwards and under her.

"But all this time, you could have said something, why'd you let it go on for so long without telling me about it?" She asked. He stretched his legs out and laced his fingers together on top of his stomach, his head leaned backward to rest on the sofa.

"Well, I didn't think they would do you any harm - you would have only regarded them as just dreams, and nothing else more significant. But after that 'dream' you had last night, I had to draw the line," the Doctor replied, his smile fading. Suddenly he straightened his back and turned to Martha, taking a deep breath.

"This is not exactly how I envisioned this moment to happen, but it's here and I'm not making any more excuses," he reached out and took Martha's hand again, tracing circles on her palm with both his thumbs, alternating circles as he spoke. He stopped abruptly, to her annoyance, and he began to speak again.

"I'd like to apologize, Martha. For everything that happened to you in 1913, for everything that you had to do for John Smith, for me. I'm so very sorry. If I could only change what had happened, I would do it in a double heartbeat," the Doctor declared, his eyes filled with remorse and regret. Martha cupped his chin gently and smiled, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she held them back with a shake of her head.

"You know better than anyone else that that wouldn't be any good. Going back and changing everything would've done nothing but cause even bigger problems. It was hard, being in a place where I was ignored and looked down on, but hey, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, yeah?" The Doctor smiled and leaned into her palm, kissing it softly as he did so, making Martha shiver inside.

"You're a clever woman, Martha Jones. Brave, clever, and so very beautiful," the Time Lord whispered, his voice now low and husky. He leaned forward slowly, a mischievous but determined look in his eyes.

"Um, Doctor, what are you doing?" Martha breathed, unable to move away owing to his arms enclosing her on each side of the sofa.

"You never asked me the one question I wanted to hear," the Doctor growled, his fingers leaving the arm rest to slide down from her neck to her coat, unbuttoning it expertly with one hand. Martha could barely keep her wits about her.

"Which is what, exactly?" She asked breathlessly, her eyes closed and her body involuntarily angled towards his.

"You never asked me if I -" he leaned in closer, "- share John Smith's thoughts -" his breath was tickling her neck, "particularly those thoughts of him and you together, and if I -" the tip of his tongue touched her tingling skin, "share the same sentiments as him."

"Uh, ah -- so do you?" she gasped.

The Doctor chuckled, his breath like fire.

"Oh yes. I do. Very**,** very much."


End file.
